Posted by Sherry , Thursday, September 30, 2010 Thursday, September 30, 2010
A couple of milestones have come and gone for me and yet I've not gotten my act together to even blog about them.
First, I hit the halfway marker to my “goal weight” a few weeks ago. I put the aforementioned goal weight in quotation marks because I'm fairly certain that I will be setting a lower final goal for myself after I reach this one, but in my adult life, I've never been under this particular weight so it is hard for me to contemplate I could ever weigh LESS than my current goal weight.
If you're confused by the last paragraph, you're not alone. So am I. I deliberately talk AROUND weight numbers. For someone who prides herself on her writing's clarity, this kind of number anonymity proves a challenge.
Its as if I'm in high school, passing notes back and forth about “Him”. You know, “He is SOOOO CUTE!” and “He, like, TOTALLY like likes Angela but she only likes him and I hope he realizes that I TOTALLY like, like him and he asks me to check out his Nirvana CD collection this weekend”.
Then I TOTALLY had to figure out what “Smells Like Teen Spirit” even meant and remember, this was the dark ages, before Google and the interwebs so I had to watch a TON of MTV and read the CD jacket over and over again. I figured out that Kurt Cobain was talking about teen apathy but the quest continued because then I had to figure out what apathy meant. Then I got bored and figured that if I made out with the guy, he wouldn't really care whether I knew what the song was about or not.
Basically, I don't tell my number. No, not THAT number! I'm totally open about THAT number. It's 27.
But there is NO WAY I'm posting on a web site how much I weigh. Forget it. My HUSBAND reads this!! Couples need BOUNDARIES, people. He may poop with the door open and ask me to pop his zits, but that doesn't mean the mystery isn't still ALIVE!
He's been with me through wedding planning induced madness, fertility treatments, a 36 hour natural childbirth, post-partum depression, sleep deprivation, PMS and the plate throwing incident of 2004 when Friends went off the air but I'm pretty sure he'd start packing his bags if he knew how much I weigh.
Also, my sister reads this and no matter how fat I am I always want her to think I'm thinner than her. Because sisters love each other like that. Oh, and mom? Jess threw a party, WITH BEER, when you went to visit grandma that one time. Neh neh neh neh boo boo!
Anyway, I'm kind of private about my 'number' but I still want to share with you that I'm over half way to my goal!
The second milestone (See, I said I had a 'couple' of milestones to report but I know you're bored so I'll get right to it) is that I'm no longer 'obese' but now officially in the overweight category of fatness.
Awesome! Now when people use the term 'overweight' to describe me because they are trying to be polite, they will also be accurate. I love accuracy!
I remember at the beginning of my Lap-Band journey I would scour the blogs looking for wisdom from those who were at their halfway points. For me, halfway to my goal seemed so much more attainable than 'goal'. I just couldn't get my head around the fact that I might actually settle into a 'normal' weight someday. I still can't. Halfway to goal seemed within my reach.
So I'd read bullet pointed posts about “What I've Learned,” nodding my head in agreement, getting excited about my turn to use bullet points and be wise and inspire. Unfortunately I can't seem to get bullet points to format correctly on my blog and, well, I'm not much wiser.
The one phrase that keeps running through my head is one that we learned in our childbirth class.
Husband and I decided together that we really wanted to have Ruby naturally, without any kind of interventions or drugs. We TOTALLY make decisions about my body together because he TOTALLY had a vote on whether or not I'd push a 8 pound watermelon out of my vagina without an epidural – or illegal drugs.
In any case, we got all hippy dippy and took Bradley method courses where we held ice in our hands, dealing with the pain of the numbing cold --- because your vagina ripping open and cold hands are TOTALLY in the same category of pain --- and practiced visualization techniques to help me focus on something other than the pain and the fact that he was eating a turkey sandwich while I was getting giant hemorrhoids from the 4 hours of pushing. You know, really helpful stuff.
But there was one phrase that the instructor insisted our partners say to us over and over again, no matter what was going on, no matter how hard it was, no matter what we said or how we screamed. She said our partners should tell us WE CAN DO IT.
Husband must have said that to me over 1,000 times while I was bringing our baby into the world. And its pretty much the only wisdom I have to impart to all of you new bandsters today: YOU CAN DO IT. YOU CAN DO IT. YOU CAN DO IT.